Waiting for Himself
by Hotaru Dragonite
Summary: The story of a young amn thinking about what he is verses what he once was.


Waiting for Himself  
  
Sitting on a couch too short for him, in a room colored off-white with wallpaper bordering the ceiling, a young man by the name of Eric waits. What for, he does not know, but he thinks it will come, so it is not important what it is. Thinking... thinking. The clouds outside the window are gray. He sees that. Maybe that is why he is like this today. He sees white skin in front of him, contrasting with the gray outside. The rain falls down outside the window. Pounding... pounding. He always did love that sound when he was little. He sees a mirror on the other side of the room. Is that what I am? he asks. What happened to me? I don't recognize who I am. It's been a while. More than a little while. He hears a noise. Breathing. More like a death call. His breath catches. The noise stops. Am I a demon? He stares at his eyes in the mirror, searching... searching. He sees a glint. What was that? He hears the rain. Pretty. He remembers playing on a trampoline, his brother beside him. He remembers how they were filled with little dreams. "Vance you'll be an Olympian one day, you know that?" that mocking voice, was that his own compliment coming back to show him what he was? He thinks hard... harder. When was the last time he had told Vance that he would be an Olympian? Vance, the little blond-haired, blue-eyed kid who could beat him at any sport, when was the last time he had told that Vance what a great kid he was? What had happened to him? He used to say things like that every day. He used to care in a different way than he did now. For one, before he actually had them. Now he was a cynic, changed from admiring Star Wars' special effects to rating them on a scale of one to ten. He was a different person, no longer an admiring companion, but rather a criticizing judge. He was changed. Where once there was a bright, go lucky, brown-haired, blue-eyed little kid who wanted to take on the world, there was only a clouded, guarded teenager who kept his dreams and hopes battened down tight while he tore others' apart. There is a sigh, a whisper crying. Then it is gone, and in an instant you could not tell that it ever existed. A black demon looks up, it's secret fears uncovered. Frightened, so frightened that it might actually exist. Then it goes back to it's dark work, tearing it's own flesh out, not letting any know what it is, that it is. Suddenly, Eric looks up. What was that? he screams silently in his mind, and the demon again looks up. It slinks further back into the darkness. How did he know? How did he know? Eric looks into the mirror again, and he sees tears. Then he blinks. They are gone. What is now him cannot cry. What lives in his heart tells him to cry for his lost self. But he cannot cry. He has not done that since he was smashed by the football in that one game with Andy. His heart floods. His chest is being torn open. The demon is screaming in a rage. That one. That boy! How dare he remember that! How dare he! Eric feels it in his gut. It is wrong to relive the past. But, Andy is so important. Or was, at least. Wasn't he? Andy... whatever happened to coming over every night, sleeping over every weekend and playing football every day? What happened to that? The demon is raging again, and tears come slowly to Eric's eyes. Slowly... so... slowly. Eric looks up, and all of a sudden he sees a vision. It's so real. So real. Three little kids in a sandbox that hasn't been in existence for over two years. That was the vision. Then it was gone, as though the vision never existed. With it's vanishing Eric wishes that it had never come. He knows what he saw. He knows. Those kids. They were so important, but why did they come, why? That was he, right there. He'd seen himself. He would recognize that sunburned skin, those twinkling eyes, the laugh, the smile on his face that he couldn't even make any more, he would recognize those almost as quickly as he would recognize the other two figures. There was Vance, different than now. Blond hair, blue eyes just like Eric's own. Muscular little body, ten times stronger than Eric's own, with a smile that he still hadn't lost. Eric envied him that more than muscle, more than anything else he'd ever seen. He wanted that smile so bad. He wanted an innocent outlook, something he could no longer have. He wanted shelter from the world, from all the problems, temptations, everything... he wanted innocence. He thought again, the demon showing it's teeth, baring it's fangs. Don't go back! it screamed. Turn around; go back, this isn't you anymore. Still Eric thought, forgetting what he was now, just going back to what he was then. Sand. It had taken them a week to get this right. Lucky for them, the sandbox still had a cover then, as it had rained last night. He looked around in a daze. Which was real, that TV there or the sandbox under his feet? He felt sand under his feet, he saw a little kid look up at him. The kid said something, but Eric didn't hear. He couldn't. His heart was beating so hard. He knew now which was real. He knew he hadn't seen that little kid in over three years. Kevin. The last time he'd seen him, he and his brothers had come over to watch some movie. It was that Star Wars one, wasn't it? The Phantom Menace. What irony. Never did he dream that that fun time would one day be his own menace. He didn't remember who left first, but he remembered how much it had hurt when his best friend had left. The demon reared, bucked, threw itself sideways, anything to get away. Torture, torture! Stop it! it screamed, Stop it, stop it! Eric's eyes filled again, filled so heavily with tears he couldn't keep them open. So stupid, he thought, I shouldn't be doing this. The past is the past. Eric saw the rain run down the window and wondered why he was here. He should leave; go play music and scream along with it. He should just go do anything to get away from this pain, this series of memories. He wanted to save his life. Pounding... pounding. Lightning streaked across the sky, and memories of other storms streaked like the lightning past his vision. He remembered the night he and his brothers had stayed up all night to record Blue off of Radio Disney. He wondered what happened to that station, forcing himself to think of that rather than the separation that was now a canyon between him and his brothers. Then that reminded him of listening to Blue with Byron. When was the last time he'd seen Byron? He hadn't seen him since Matty and Marissa, who were once his little sisters best friends, moved into his house, or maybe it was his former house now. That reminded him of the Keller's house, the only that had not been sold at some point, and he thought of how he used to roller blade while listening to Nsync or the Backstreet Boys, bands he now abhorred. He saw a shadow in his vision, cutting out the picture of the kids he saw in his mind. He gasped, and the demon roared. There, standing in front of him, was himself. 


End file.
